


I don't just want to be a footnote in someone else's happiness

by SoulForAnime



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, Depression, Eating Disorders, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier First Meet, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak Needs A Hug, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Hospital, Reddie, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, college age losers club, honestly there's not a lot of angst in this, i feel like im missing tags so i'll add more when i think of them, i imagined the it chap 2 cast while writing this but do whatever you want, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28766109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulForAnime/pseuds/SoulForAnime
Summary: Eddie has been struggling, to say the least. He confides in his therapist, who sends him to a mental hospital where he meets the most intriguing man of his life, Richie Tozier.TW//mentioned suicide, suicide attempts, self harm, eating disorders, lots of mental health issues (I mean..they're in a mental hospital lol)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. Sometimes love is not enough and the road gets tough

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First and foremost, this story is based on my recent stay at a mental hospital and of course I took it as inspiration for a story because that's how I cope haha Anyway! If anything sounds "inaccurate" or "weird", that's just how they did things at my hospital, and if you've ever had a stay at a mental hospital things might've been different so just a little disclaimer there! But please enjoy, I'll be updating this as soon as I can, but I won't set a date because I know I'll totally miss it! Enjoy!
> 
> TW// Suicide

The more Eddie thought about it, the more this day had started to remind him of a book he had read countless times as a child; _Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day_ . Most of his days were about a 3 out of 10, ( _“Ten being great, one being terrible,”_ as his therapist would always remind him) but lately, his days had been turning out to be about a -11, and there was a lot contributing to his poor mood. Whether it be the pressures of university, the constant nagging of his mother to visit him back home, and ultimately, the introduction of a new roommate in his life. Although it may not seem like a big change for many people, this new roommate made Eddie’s life a living hell.

After graduating high school, Eddie moved out of his controlling mother’s house and into a cramped apartment with his cousin in New York, where he’d be attending university in the fall. Despite the small quarters, Eddie loved his newfound independence, and actually liked his cousin’s company most of the time. That is, until his girlfriend, Nicole, moved in during Eddie’s junior year of college.

Disclaimer: Eddie didn’t _hate_ Nicole, on the contrary, she was a very sweet girl, who cared a lot about everyone around her. Which is why Eddie couldn’t figure out why _every little thing_ she did made him want to break out in tears from pure rage. It wasn’t always this way though, whenever Nicole would visit for the day, or even a couple of days, Eddie would be able to tolerate her, and sometimes even enjoy her company. But ever since he found out she was staying, Eddie’s mood had decreased significantly. Significantly might even be an understatement.

With all the stressors placed upon him, it wasn’t unusual for Eddie to constantly be thinking about ways to ultimately well... _End his life._ And to be fair, Eddie had always had _suicidal ideation_ (the way his therapist phrased it), but recently, they’d started to manifest in more ways than just passing thoughts of suicide, and now he was actually devising plans to kill himself. And it seemed like with each passing day, that’s all that consumed him, were his thoughts of suicide. _I feel like I’m in high school again,_ he thought to himself almost daily (but that’s a whole other story).

So, back to Eddie’s _Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day_ ; it was about 9:15 when his alarm woke him up early on his only day without classes so that he could have his weekly appointment with his therapist. Eddie had almost a “love-hate” relationship to therapy in general, because on one hand, he had _so much_ trauma to work through, paired with his anxiety, and whatever the hell else he had going on in his mind, but on the other hand, he absolutely _hated_ spending an hour a week just talking about himself while his therapist looked at him with that- _look._ She always called it empathy, he’d call it pity.

He hated when he’d talk about all the terrible things he’d gone through and she gave him that look of “empathy,” it just made him angry. _There’s people much more in need of empathy than me, give that look to them,_ he’d always think. At least she’d stopped saying, “I’m sorry that happened to you,” he didn’t even know how to respond to that. In short- therapy was “so-so” to Eddie, but he went anyway, because part of him really wanted to work out the issues he had, even if therapy made him uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, Eddie wasn’t always _honest_ with his therapist, hence why he’d spent the last three months or so in a living hell where he only ever thought of killing himself, while his therapist knew nothing of how serious it was. But today, Eddie thought enough was enough, and figured if he was honest, his therapist could talk to his psychiatrist and they’d adjust his medications and his suicidal thoughts would just _vanish_ , right?

“So what’s going on in your world this week, Eddie?” Leslie, Eddie’s therapist, asked after he got situated in his normal spot across from her. He hesitated for a moment, deciding the best way to phrase _I’m going to kill myself if I don’t get out of my cousin’s house immediately_.

“I-I think I’m going to kill myself,” he decided this was the best way to phrase it. Leslie looked at him in a way he couldn’t read- not exactly surprised, or sad, just..there. He figured she wanted him to elaborate as she didn’t make any move to speak, “well it’s just, I’ve been thinking..There’s a lot going on right now at my house, and at school, and just _life_ is _ugh_ and I don’t know all I’ve been thinking about is killing myself and how I’d do it.” This wasn’t as articulated as he’d hoped, but it did the job as Leslie spoke next, “What’s your plan?”

Eddie immediately regretted telling her anything, because this question made him immensely uncomfortable, which is why he lied during therapy, _to avoid being uncomfortable._ His plans to end his life were his own secret and to even speak them aloud made him want to, ironically, crawl up into a ball and die. He realized he’d been sitting there in silence for probably way too long before he answered, “Um, like my plans, specifically? Well..I thought I could like, take a bunch of pills or something I guess,” he tried to play it off as if he wasn’t hoarding the pills in his room already. It didn’t seem to work as Leslie continued with the questions, “And how long have you had this plan?” she asked. He answered her question and they went back and forth like this for a while until Leslie finally stopped with the questions and just gave a statement.

“You know Eddie, this part of your life is just temporary, and this too shall pass. And if you ended your life, so many people would miss you, and even me, I would miss you _immensely_ and wonder, “what did I miss?” and, “what could I have done to prevent this?” And the hurt it would cause your family and friends would last a lifetime. Your life would be over, but those around you would continue to miss you for the rest of theirs.”

Eddie reflected on this for a moment before responding.

“Yeah, I know, but it’s easier not to think about that, so I guess I don’t really care.” Now, if Eddie could pinpoint where he fucked up, it’d be in that response right there.

Leslie wrote something down for a moment before replying, “You know Eddie that’s really concerning to hear that. And I’m very concerned for you right now so what I’m going to do is give you this number for a few hospitals around here, and I’m going to ask that you go to one of them, okay? I’m going to let you go in voluntarily, but if I don’t hear that you’ve admitted yourself by tonight, I’m going to call them to come get _you,_ okay?”

_Wait, what?_ Eddie took the piece of paper Leslie was handing him and looked at the names scribbled on them with phone numbers she’d somehow memorized. “Are these- mental hospitals?” he asked. She smiled at him and gave him that stupid look of pity- sorry, _empathy-_ and nodded. _Well fuck,_ Eddie thought to himself, _I have like three papers and like, two exams coming up I don’t have time for this!_

“So, how long do I have to stay?” Eddie asked, visibly anxious. Leslie picked up on this and tried her best to sooth his agitation, “Well, I’m not sure, it depends on how you respond to treatment, but no one stays at these hospitals for longer than maybe a week.” _A week?_ Eddie was feeling worse the more they talked about it, and was trying to figure out ways to get out of the situation. Before he could think of a good excuse, Leslie spoke again, “So do we have a plan? I’ll make some calls to let them know to expect you, and I expect to hear that you’ve been admitted by tonight, alright?” Eddie felt somewhat defeated, but nodded anyway.

He left his therapist’s office with his tail between his legs, and just kept staring at the piece of paper Leslie had given him. She’d circled the one she thought was the best suited for him, so Eddie figured, _Fuck it,_ and went home to pack a bag. Honestly, Eddie had no idea what he _could_ pack, for a _mental hospital_ stay so he settled for some shirts, socks, underwear, toiletries, and for good measure, a book. He had no idea if he could have his phone on him but he brought that with his charger and wallet, and made the trek to the hospital.

After making his way to the hospital (Reef Brook, so it was called) he finally found himself in its lobby. He was greeted with metal detectors and security guards, and to say he was intimidated was an understatement. In front of him was a couple, seemingly saying their ‘goodbyes’ and crying in each other's arms (loudly, might he add), which made him _uncomfortable_ to say the least. He waited patiently until they were done and he could walk up to the counter to talk to the security guard.

“Um, I’d like to, _check in?_ ” Eddie stumbled on his words, trying to figure out how to phrase this. The guard looked at him before turning to his computer and muttering, “name?”

“Oh um, Edward Kaspbrak?” _Am I even in the right place?_ He thought as he looked around the room, with generic tile flooring and artificial lighting. The guard gave a grunt in affirmation as if he found his name on his list, before saying, “I’ll take your bag as well as any other belongings- you’ll get back whatever’s allowed to you when you’re up in your room. Turn off your phone and put it with your stuff.” Eddie did as he was told, and felt like he was in trouble by the way the man spoke to him. He figured he must deal with loads of unpleasant people on a daily basis, so he didn’t fault him much for it, he just hoped he’d be talking to someone much more _amicable_ soon.

“One more thing, can’t have any strings- you can take your shoelaces out or leave your shoes here, you won’t need them up there anyway. Your hoodie string too,” he said pointing to Eddie’s sweatshirt. Eddie saw no point in arguing and pulled out the string to his hoodie and did away with his shoes entirely, not wanting to have to lace them back up when he got out of here. The security guard then took all his belongings to a room where he assumed they’d be checked.

When he returned, he silently motioned for Eddie to follow him before telling him what the check-in process entailed. He’d need a physical conducted by an MD, then have a bunch of labs done, and finally he’d meet with a social worker who’d make sure he was a good fit for the hospital. _They couldn’t make sure I was a good fit before they made me pull out the string to my good sweatshirt?_ Eddie thought sarcastically. But, he digressed, he thought the process sounded easy and he figured he’d be officially “admitted” in a few hours. 

Oh boy how wrong he was.

It took him about 2 hours before he saw the doctor for his physical, another hour or so before the nurse came in to draw his blood, and finally another good hour before the first social worker (of many, he would find out) came and asked him a million questions. If Eddie had a nickel for the number of times he had to answer the questions, “why are you here?” and, “what is your plan?” he’s sure he’d be a millionaire. He was getting very tired of saying, “I’m here because I’m suicidal,” and, “I plan to take a lot of pills,” and quite frankly, he didn’t even feel uncomfortable saying it any more, it was almost as if he was reciting lines for a play. A very depressing play.

By the time he knew it, he’d been waiting there in a hospital gown for 9 hours, and it was getting close to 2 a.m., the only saving grace being there was a TV in his room and he was allowed to change the channel. Finally, when he thought they’d forgotten about him, the social worker came back with “good” news.

“Well, good news! They have a bed for you upstairs! Sorry this took so long, there’s a lot of paperwork we have to wait on but you should be taken up to admissions in just a minute!” _Admissions?! There’s more?!_ Eddie panicked a bit on the inside, honestly just wanting to take a nap, but thanked the man politely as he could and quickly changed into his clothes so they could walk him up to the next round of paperwork.

Fortunately, actual admissions to the hospital took shorter than, well.. _whatever the fuck just happened._ Just a lot of the same questions that could soon make Eddie a millionaire, and he gave the same answers to them everytime, it’s not like anything had changed in the last 12 hours. At least now the nurse finally gave him a Nutrigrain bar and some juice since he’d forgotten to eat before he got here. By the time he knew it, it was close to 6 a.m. and the admissions nurse was finally leading him up to the 5th floor where he’d be staying for god knows how long.

The whole way up, the nurse was chatting, telling him about how the hospital ran and what kind of activities there would be throughout the day, but Eddie couldn’t seem to focus on her words, he was entirely exhausted. They finally exited the elevator and onto the floor, through several locked doors, and into a hallway with a giant quote painted on it, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. —Lao Tzu.” Eddie found this to be totally corny but figured it might help someone along the way and focused again on how tired he was.

The nurse stopped in front of a closed door before speaking softly, “Oh! And you have a roommate, his name’s Richard. He’s probably asleep, but I’m sure he won’t mind if you need to turn on the light. They’ll bring your things up to you tomorrow morning, until then, try to rest until breakfast! Let us know if you need anything!” She turned the awkward looking doorknob and allowed Eddie to step in before closing it behind her.

It was almost pitch black in the room, minus a few rays of light peeking out from the window along the wall. Eddie fumbled around for a light switch, not giving any thought to a roommate, and flicked the switch. Almost immediately he heard shuffling around under covers followed by a groggy voice, “Is it breakfast?” Eddie took a moment to reply, his thoughts still scattered from exhaustion, “um, no, I’m new?” Eddie had phrased it as more of a question than an answer, but Richard (he guessed that’s who spoke?) took it and immediately began snoring again.

Eddie didn’t want anymore interactions with anyone else tonight so he flicked the light back off and found his way to the empty bed on the other side of the room. He looked at his watch and noted it was about 6:30 a.m. and hoped he could get some rest before breakfast. _When is breakfast again? Hopefully not before 8:30,_ he thought before pulling the thin sheets over him.

He tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before just getting to a place that seemed comfortable, and he thought that he could _maybe_ get some sleep on this terrible mattress. And right when he was about to doze off, someone entered the room.

“Alrighty 7 o’clock! Time for vitals!” _What?_


	2. Don’t look at me as we wink into the open sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, yay!! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Just another disclaimer, I don't want to violate any HIPPA laws or anything (or just violate anyone's privacy in general), so all the names for "original characters" (social works, psychiatrist, techs, etc.) in this story will be made up, as well as all the conversations in the stories may be based on conversations I had at the hospital, but none of them will contain any personal information about anyone I talked to! Enjoy!
> 
> -S

Eddie got up and repeated his phrase out loud, “What?” Next thing he knew, he was having his blood pressure, pulse, and temperature taken. “Oh, you just got here right? Vitals happen at 7 a.m. honey, breakfast happens in just another half hour,” the nice older woman informed him.

_ For fucksake,  _ he thought to himself, holding the thermometer under his tongue,  _ so much for sleeping. _ She took the device from him once it beeped, indicating it was done doing its job. “98.3, not bad,” she read out to him while the blood pressure cuff continued to inflate. This was absolutely torturous as Eddie just wanted to rest, but knew this poor lady was just doing her job so he made no complaints.

When she was done with his vitals, she moved on to Eddie’s roommate,  _ Richard, right?  _ “Alright Richard, time for vitals!” She called out once again, but seemingly only for him. Eddie watched as the man groaned, sticking his arm from under the blankets (if they can even be called that), the rest of his body, including his head, still under them. Eddie thought it was rude that this guy couldn’t even sit up to make this lady’s job easier, but the tech only chuckled in response, so he figured the only person it bothered was himself.

Eddie finally got a glimpse of the man’s face when he moved the covers and let the tech stick the thermometer under his tongue. Eddie once again remarked on the way he let her hold the thermometer instead of doing it himself.  _ Lazy,  _ he thought. His hair was curly, sort of unruly if you asked him, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in days ( _ To be fair, you probably don’t get razors here _ ). But from what he could tell with the limited amount of light bleeding into their room, he had a nice square jaw and a strong brow. Not too bad looking to have as your roommate at a  _ mental hospital _ .

“Breakfast in 30 minutes boys, let you know when it’s ready!” she called out once finishing Richard’s vitals. Eddie mumbled a “thank you” before copying his roommate and pulling the covers over his head, hoping he could at least shut his eyes for 30 minutes.

30 minutes came and went and next thing Eddie knew, they were yelling down the hall that breakfast was being served. Eddie forced himself out of the poor excuse for a bed and ran his fingers through his hair to try and make himself look a little more presentable.  _ Who am I trying to impress here?  _ He thought bitterly. Nevertheless, he did it anyway and proceeded to shove his hands in his hoodie pocket as he made his way down the hallway and into the room labeled “Day Room”.

He already saw a line forming and made his way to the end of it, as they passed out trays one by one. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal since yesterday, so he hoped whatever they were being served was worth it, but he honestly didn’t have high hopes given the place he was in. Right when he got to the front of the line, he noticed Richard entering the day room. He looked different under the bright lights of the room, especially now that glasses adorned his face.  _ They suit him,  _ Eddie thought.

“Apple juice, orange juice, or milk?” A gruff voice belonging to an imposingly large tech took Eddie out of his thoughts and back to the situation at hand: breakfast. He took a moment to think about what he wanted before answering, “Um, apple juice please.” The tech handed him a tray, along with two apple juices, and some silverware. He thanked him before taking his breakfast into the farthest corner of the room to eat in silence.

The food was nothing to write home about; the eggs were powdered, the biscuit was a bit dry, and the banana he’d been given was far too ripe for his liking, but honestly it was edible and that meant the world to Eddie in this moment. He ate in comfortable silence at the table, looking down at his food, hoping it was going to stay that way until he heard a chair scrape against the floor across from him.

“Is this seat taken?” Eddie looked up and noticed his roommate smiling at him, not waiting for an answer before sitting down. Eddie realized he was probably scowling at him, but instead of saying anything, he turned his attention to his half eaten meal and said nothing (like he always did). And he probably would’ve kept quiet if it wasn’t for the fact that every once in a while, Richard would open his mouth while he was eating.

“Can you close your mouth?” Eddie barked out, probably a little too forcefully. In his defense, Eddie was “sensitive” to sounds, particularly eating noises, and any little sound could send him into a fit of rage (his therapist called it “sensory overload”). Richard somehow found this somewhat rhetorical question very funny and burst out laughing.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, it’s just, that’s the first thing you say to me? Ha! You’re funny! But sure, I guess that’s one of your ‘things’ so I’ll do my best!” Richard continued to chuckle while eating (mouth entirely closed this time).  _ What the fuck?  _ Eddie thought, staring at a spec in his juice as it floated to the bottom of the container,  _ How was that funny whatsoever? _

The two continued to eat their breakfast in silence, both finishing about the same time. Richard got up to throw away his trash and offered to take Eddie’s, the latter giving a small “thank you” while handing him everything in a neat pile. Eddie played with the hem of his sweatshirt until Richie sat back down at the table and started talking.

“Hi, I’m Richie. Or Richard. But I prefer Richie, Richard’s my father- just kidding, my dad’s name is Wentworth, which is also my middle name, which I guess you could call me ‘Wentworth’ if you wanted to, but then, we’d have the same problem as before because, that’s my father’s name,” Richard, sorry,  _ Richie _ , said without taking a breath. Eddie looked at him in total confusion because,  _ Who the fuck is this guy?  _ Eddie was about to reply when Richie continued. “That over there is Stan, or Stanley, but don’t call him Staniel, he hates that. And then Big Bill is next to him, don’t ask where the “Big” came from, he’s only like, 5’7”, and Mikey over there across from him. Ben and Bev aren’t up yet, they’re always late because they don’t like to eat with us, but they’ll be here, don’t you worry!”

_ Is this guy on speed?  _ Eddie wondered to himself as he looked at Richie in utter confusion. He was honestly kind of speechless, which was odd for Eddie because he could argue about any and everything. “Um, okay? I’m Eddie?” He said as more of a question than a statement. Richie smiled in response and took it upon himself to reach over the table and take Eddie’s hand out of his lap to shake it enthusiastically.

“Nice to meet you Eddie! To be honest, you kind of look like shit, what time did you get here?” Richie let go of his hand with a thud and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest while the smirk never left his face. As brutally honest as he was, Eddie couldn’t even be mad about the comment; he had no idea what he looked like, but he hadn’t slept in almost 24 hours, which wasn’t uncommon, but with the added stress of hospital admissions and being in an unfamiliar place, Eddie was sure he really  _ did _ look like complete and utter shit.

“Gee, thanks. I got here yesterday, but I finally got to my room like- well,  _ an hour ago _ ,” Eddie spoke, looking down at the worn-in table. Richie chuckled at this, “Well, first group’s in about an hour, it’s just check-in so if you wanna skip that’s cool. But a heads up, you’ll get out of here faster if you go to all the groups and participate, and make lots of friends ASAP!” Eddie hated to hear this, he hated everything about this. He didn’t want to do group therapy, he hated individual therapy as it is, and he certainly didn’t intend on making  _ friends  _ here, he didn’t even really have friends  _ outside  _ of here. He didn’t see why anything would change. But he did want to get out of here as soon as possible, so he weighed his options.

“Can you come wake me up when group starts?” Eddie asked Richie. He hated asking a stranger for any kind of favor, and he honestly didn’t know if he trusted Richie to remember to come get him, but he figured this was his best bet. “Sure thing Eds! You try and get some shut-eye now, ya hear?” Richie said with a wink, seemingly trying to imitate a southern twang and tipping an invisible cowboy hat. Eddie clearly wasn’t in the right frame of mind because this made him smile the tiniest bit as he got up to go to his shared room.

Eddie actually managed to squeeze in a nice nap before he was awoken by a sudden shaking of his shoulders and a booming voice over him, “Dude, it’s time for group!” Eddie woke up startled and nearly choked on his own saliva, “What the fuck! Wha- could you be a little more,  _ subtle _ , next time?” Richie chuckled and let him know they were meeting in the day room for group, not waiting for Eddie to follow him as he walked out the door.

It wasn’t nearly the amount of sleep he wanted to get, but it was enough to fuel him up to at least be able to pay attention during group therapy. He got up and out of his room and made his way down to the day room for the second time that day. When he got there, the room was set up so the tables were out of the way and the chairs were set up in a sort of circular shape. He saw an empty seat next to Richie and decided to take it, not knowing if anyone else was saving their seats for anyone else.

The group consisted of the people Richie had named to Eddie earlier this morning during breakfast: Stan, Bill, Mike, and he assumed the two new faces he saw were Ben and Bev. It was just seven people in the group, including himself and Richie, but Eddie still wasn’t sure how much he was willing to share today.

Group started when a young lady, probably mid to late twenties, entered the room and took her seat in the circle of chairs. “Good morning everyone! Looks like we have a new face in here today so welcome, my name’s Erica, and I’ll just go over the rules; we do use DBT here at Reef Brook, which is Dialectical Behavioral Therapy, so we focus on the here and now. If you’ve had a suicide attempt, we just call it an attempt, if you have gone through any kind of traumatic event in your life we just call it trauma, we don’t do any processing here, okay?” Erica continued to go over the rules of the group setting, Eddie trying his hardest to focus on what she was saying.

“Okay, this is check-in so would anyone like to go first? You can start with how you’re feeling on a scale of 1-10, ten being amazing,” she continued, looking around the room for volunteers. Nobody raised their hand immediately, the entire group instead looking either at the ground or at the ceiling. After a minute, Richie raised his hand.

“Yeah, I’m about a seven, I’m pretty good today. I mean, other than my nightmares,” he said fiddling with his sweatshirt. His demeanor had changed from earlier this morning, as it seemed talking in group gave him the same anxiety it did to Eddie. Erica probably picked up on it but continued anyway, “Okay, seven’s good overall, but you didn’t sleep too well? How do you think that’s affected your anxiety today?” Richie seemed a bit uncomfortable, but continued to answer Erica’s questions. Like she’d said, everything they talked about was sort of vague, not really getting to the source of the problem, but instead talking about what kind of coping mechanisms were utilized to get back to Richie’s “baseline” mood. And there were a lot of acronyms used-  _ so many acronyms _ .

They went through the whole room, everyone talking about how they’d felt in the past 24 hours, and all eyes fell on Eddie. He wasn’t exactly  _ opposed  _ to group therapy, he’d just never done it before, and was sort of nervous to share his feelings to a group full of strangers. “Edward, would you like to check in today?” Erica asked him, glancing at her clipboard. He remembered what Richie had said about participating in group, and nodded his head slowly. Erica smiled and waited for him to speak. “I’m uh- I’m at a four?” he said as more of a question than a statement. Erica seemed like she wanted him to elaborate more, but he didn’t, so she asked another question, “Okay, what’s contributing to that low mood?” Eddie thought about it for a moment because a four for him seemed high as of late. He shrugged his shoulders and answered, “I don’t know, being here?” Getting an answer out of him right now was like pulling teeth.

“Okay, so being in a new environment is hard for you. Is there anything else that you think is contributing to your mood?” Erica tried to get more of an explanation out of Eddie. He thought again for a moment, not being able to keep his legs from shaking under him. He didn’t trust his voice, and decided to shake his head in response. “Okay, well is there anything else you’d like to check in on?” Again, he shook his head.

In his defense, he did kind of try to participate.  _ Kind of _ . He vowed to try harder tomorrow and tried not to think too much of it today, instead trying to think of how he was going to try and “make friends” with everyone else so he could  _ get the fuck out of here  _ as Richie had advised him earlier.

After their first group was over, everyone started putting the tables and chairs back in their original arrangement, Eddie doing his best to remember what the room had looked like this morning. He was doing a shit job apparently because the girl he assumed was Bev startled giggling at him while he fumbled with a chair. She started walking in his direction, Eddie becoming hyper aware of his own actions. He put down the chair when she finally approached, “Uhh, I don’t remember where these were.” She giggled again, Eddie noted that she looked kind of tired, really tired actually, but still very pretty. She took the chair from him and moved it somewhere Eddie didn’t even remotely remember it being, “I’m Beverly, you’re Edward?” He nodded, still a little embarrassed. “Well, Eddie is fine.” She smiled at him, “Come sit with us.”

Eddie did as she said and took a seat at the large table next to her, everyone else pulling up a chair and making a space for themselves. “Hey everyone, let’s give a big warm welcome to our new friend, Eduardo!” Richie announced to the table as he sat across from Eddie. “Please don’t call me that,” Eddie corrected him as he tried to find a comfortable way to sit in the hard chairs. Richie ignored him while the table laughed gently.

“Sorry you have to share a room with Richie, I can hear his snoring from across the hall, I don’t know how you managed to get any sleep last night,” the man next to Richie spoke. He had dark curly hair, not nearly as unkempt as Richie’s, and he wore a well-worn cardigan. “I’m Stan,” he extended his hand across the table, and in doing so the sleeve of his cardigan rode up, exposing a bandaged wrist. He retracted his hand quickly, and Eddie settled for a wave, trying not to make him feel embarrassed.

“It’s not that bad- at least, not from next door. I’m Mike, nice to meet you, Eddie, right?” Eddie nodded and smiled at Mike; he seemed gentle in the way he spoke, it was refreshing to him. He looked to the man next to Mike, assuming they were going down the line, introducing themselves. The man took the hint and began to speak, “H-hi, I’m B-Bill. And I disagree with M-Mike, I think Richie’s s-snoring is hor-rrendous,” Bill said with a smile, mostly directed towards Mike.  _ They seem close _ , Eddie observed, feeling a little envious of the relationship someone could possess in a facility such as this.

“Well, I guess I’m the only one left then! I’m Ben.” Eddie had to lean around Beverly to see the man in question. He extended his hand behind Beverly similar to Stanley, and Eddie took it, noticing how cold he was. “Nice to uh, meet you all,” Eddie tried his hardest to sound sincere, they all really did seem like lovely people, but he only intended to socialize for the sake of getting discharged.

“Do you guys wanna try that 1000 piece puzzle today? I think we ran out of the 500 piece ones,” Richie pointed toward the bookshelf containing old coloring books, jigsaw puzzles, and various board games. The group agreed; it was that or they could flip through the channels and either seemed equally insipid at the moment.

Richie grabbed the jigsaw puzzle with the picture of various dogs at a park, “NO MISSING PIECES 07/08/20” scribbled on the lid; how true the statement was remained unclear. Still, they poured out the pieces and began work on the monster of a puzzle. Mike and Bill looked for edge pieces, with Beverly and Ben trying to find all the dogs’ faces. While Richie and Stan were busy arguing over which way to orient the puzzle to best suit the group, Eddie ran his fingers over the edge of the same piece, lost in his own thoughts.

They hadn’t made much progress when a young man pulled Eddie from the day room and into an empty room close by. He introduced himself as David, and Eddie thought he couldn’t have been a day over 25.  _ He’s taking care of me and he’s probably only a few years older than me, what am I even doing with my life? _

“I’m your social worker, we’ll meet daily, and I’ll just be checking in on you. So, how are you doing today?” David asked him, already writing something down on his clipboard. “Well..I’m in here,” Eddie replied sarcastically. This earned him a laugh from David and honestly did a lot to make Eddie feel a lot more relaxed than he had in the past 24 hours. David wrote something else down, but Eddie didn’t worry about it too much this time, “Yeah, I know, that’s always a weird question when you’re here. But have you gotten to settle in a little bit?”

“Sort of. I met everyone else. I’m just still kind of..” Eddie trailed off and made an obscure gesture with his hands, trying to imitate how he was feeling. David wrote something down again. “And are you having any suicidal thoughts?” he asked Eddie, leaving their previous question behind. Eddie found the question sort of silly; nothing had changed since the last time they’d asked him this, so of course the answer was still the same, so he nodded. “Any plans to attempt?” Eddie thought this question was even sillier; he was being watched everywhere he went, even if he did have a plan, there wasn’t any way to carry it out. He answered this time, “I mean, yes, but it’s not like I can do it here.” David gave him that look of  _ empathy _ .

The rest of David’s questions were about Eddie’s home life, and what had brought him to his “crisis point”. Eddie explained everything he could about his stressors from back home, including his cousin’s girlfriend moving in ( _ especially that _ ), David writing just about everything down. He left Eddie alone in the room for a moment, and once he returned, he let him know that the psychiatrist was coming to talk with him about his medications and to check up on him as well.

The meeting with the psychiatrist went even faster than the one he had with David, as he’d briefed her on Eddie’s situation prior to their conversation. She was a sweet lady, Dr. Chone, and Eddie felt comfortable talking to her. She nodded while Eddie answered her questions, but didn’t write anything down like David had before her. It was a fairly quick meeting, and near the end of it she let Eddie know they were increasing the dosage of his mood stabilizer.  _ We couldn’t have done that without putting me in the hospital? _ Eddie made his way back to the dayroom where the group hadn’t made much, if any, progress on the puzzle.

The rest of Eddie’s day flew by; they’d managed to finish half the puzzle, completing the outline entirely and filling in random spaces within its borders. Dinner was fair, he had his choice between roast beef or chicken pot pie; he chose the beef. He also realized they only got spoons for utensils no matter what the dish, as he asked the table where he could find a fork and knife to cut his food into smaller pieces, and they all laughed.  _ The least they could do is give me a spork _ , he thought as he tried to scoop up a chunk of meat onto his spoon.

Before he knew it, it was 8 pm, and the nurses were walking around asking everyone when they’d like their medication. “You can take your medication anytime from 8:15 until 9:45, when would you like it?” Eddie’s nurse asked him. “As soon as possible please,” Eddie wanted nothing more than to take his medications and go to sleep. She nodded, “Alright, and would you like something to help you sleep?”  _ Oh my god yes please _ . Eddie wasn’t sure he’d need it, in fact, he was probably going to pass out the moment his head hit the pillow, but he wanted it  _ just in case _ . “Yes please,” he tried not to sound too eager. She gave another nod and told him she’d be right back with his medication.

At 8:15 on the dot, she came back with a little cup filled with individually wrapped pills. She opened each one as she named them in front of Eddie, “this is your risperidone, and it’s 6mg of that one. This one’s your escitalopram, 30mg of that, and this is just 5mg of melatonin, and finally 50mg of trazodone to help you sleep.” She handed him the tiny cup along with a cup of water. He swallowed them all at once and drank all the water, handing both cups back to her. “Let me know if you need anything!” She said while walking away.

Eddie decided he should probably call it a night and take a shower before the trazodone kicked in, and excused himself from the table in the day room. The group all said good night, Richie telling him he’d be there in a bit, he just wanted to finish whatever show he was watching. Eddie made his way to his room and found a brown paper bag on his bed, scribbled on it was, “welcome!” with a smiley face on it. He found the clothes he’d packed, along with his book, with toiletries and towels that weren’t his, but obviously came from the facility. He figured something about his own toiletries weren’t ‘allowed’, but was still a little upset that his own toothpaste wasn’t anywhere to be found,  _ I need my Sensodyne. _

He gathered his things for his nightly routine, albeit a slightly  _ modified  _ version of his nightly routine, and made his way to the bathroom. Although each room had its own bathroom, the door had no lock and actually didn’t even close, instead it swung out in either direction and had a rubber flap that acted as a ‘seal’ of some sorts to keep it from shifting  _ too much _ . Everything in the facilities was about  _ suicide prevention  _ so the design made sense, but Eddie couldn’t help but feel anxious that someone was going to walk in on him as he got undressed. He turned the faucet on in the shower, and tried to let it run for a moment before stepping in.

Although it had been a good couple of minutes, Eddie kept checking the water and it still wasn’t getting warm, and he wasn’t sure it ever would. He decided he’d just have to suffer a cold shower tonight,  _ how bad could it be, right? _

It was probably one of the most excruciating showers he’s ever taken in his life.

Don’t get him wrong, Eddie enjoyed a cold shower every once in a while, he’d read somewhere that they were good for your immune system, but this- this was like showering in ice. He yelped when the water hit his back, and immediately stepped out of range of the water. He tried to gather enough courage to submerge his body under the spray, but every time he’d try, he felt like he was going to die. He settled on doing one body part at a time, dunking his head in the water first. He lathered the all-in-one shampoo, conditioner, and body wash in his hair, hating the way it made it feel. He rinsed it out as quickly as he could, trying not to let any water drip down his back as he did so.

When he got to his arms and legs, it was more manageable; he ran the wash cloth they’d put with his things under the water, pouring more of that soap on it and trying to wash off grime from the day off his body. His torso was probably the worst to wash, but he made a quick job of it and was out of the shower in probably five minutes flat.

He got dressed quickly, relieved to put on a fresh pair of clothes. He brushed his teeth and did his best to comb through his hair with his fingers, trying to imagine why he wouldn’t be able to have his comb up here. He pushed open the bathroom door and set his dirty clothes in an extra brown paper bag they’d left him with his things. He looked in the bag as a small composition journal caught his eye, a sticky note attached to it, “use me to journal! Marker in bag!”

He did indeed find a felt tip marker in the bottom of the bag, and decided,  _ why not _ . His therapist always encouraged him to, “express his emotions through journaling!” but he never really had an interest in it. Now he had nothing better to do, and the trazodone still hadn’t taken full effect, so he decided to give it a shot.

He didn’t know how to start-  _ dear..journal?  _ He thought that sounded stupid and scratched it out, and decided to try not to think about it too much and just  _ write _ . He mostly wrote about life at home, and how he was always angry, whether it be about school or the people in his classes, or  _ Nicole _ . No matter what it was about, he always felt angry. This made him start thinking about being angry at his mother, and all the ways she’d made his life a living hell, for practically his whole life. He definitely had a lot of trauma to process with her.

He started to get into what he was writing, not even noticing when Richie had entered the room and started taking his shower. He only realized he was there when Richie started talking to him. “Wasn’t that the best shower of your life?” Richie said coming out of the shower, towel drying his hair, “I haven’t been to prison but I imagine that’s what the showers there feel like.”

“Are they always like that?” Eddie pulled his attention away from his writing to ask Richie, wanting to know if he was going to go through hell every night in order to be clean. He laughed a little before answering, “Hell if I know, that’s the first shower I’ve taken here!” Eddie, who had looked back down at his journal, immediately turned to Richie once again,“What?! How long have you been here?” Richie put his finger up to his mouth to indicate he was thinking, “Let’s see it’s Saturday? Like 3, almost 4 days?” 

Eddie’s face scrunched up in disgust at Richie’s response, “Dude seriously?! That’s disgusting!” Richie wasn’t offended at all by Eddie’s comment, instead, he laughed again, “To be fair, I was kind of bathing right before I got here!”

“What do you mean ‘kind of bathing’? You’re either bathing or you’re not,” Eddie was totally confused about who Richie was,  _ who ‘kind of’ bathes? _ Richie shrugged and struggled to find his words, “Well I mean, I was in the tub, ya know. And I guess I was bathing, I guess I just didn’t think I’d-  _ come here _ .”

“Did you- what do you mean?” Eddie  _ thinks  _ he knew what he meant, but the way Richie was beating around the bush left a lot to speculate. Richie made obscure gestures with his hands, similar to how Eddie had done earlier with his social worker, “Well I kinda just woke up here. Well not  _ here _ , but in the hospital, then they transferred me here.” Eddie felt bad for prying, but he figured if Richie wanted him to stop asking questions he would say so.

“Well what about you?” Richie tried to fill the silence. Eddie was taken aback by the question, not sure if Richie was asking him what he thought he was asking him, “are you asking me if I tried to kill myself?” Richie laughed,  _ is there anything he doesn’t laugh at? _ “Well when you say it like that- yes!” Richie was still laughing, and Eddie didn’t know if he was actually expecting him to answer or not.

“Well, not really..I mean, I told my therapist I would, so she made me come here, but I just wanted her to change my medication, not send me here!” Eddie wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain himself. Richie stopped laughing when he realized Eddie was answering sincerely, and Eddie was peeved to find Richie looking at him with  _ empathy _ . “Don’t look at me like that,” he spat at Richie, who looked perplexed at the reaction. “Look at you like what?” Richie seemed genuine in his response, but Eddie couldn’t help the rage he felt in his chest.

“It’s like-  _ pity  _ or  _ empathy _ , it’s the same thing,” Eddie tried to explain without letting his anger get the best of him. Richie seemed to understand what he was saying, “I didn’t mean to look at you like that. I don’t, look down at you or anything. I mean, we’re both  _ here  _ aren’t we? We’re in the same boat.” Eddie felt a little bad when he looked at Richie, who kind of looked like a kid that just got scolded. Eddie didn’t know how to remedy this though; the thing about his rage issues was that he was really good at burning bridges he had with people, but he’d never learned how to repair them.

“Yeah, you’re right..uh, sorry,” Eddie wasn’t good at apologizing, his mother certainly never taught him how to do it, but he tried his best. It didn’t take much to make Richie perk up, and that apparently did the trick. “No sweat, Eds. Hey, let’s talk about something else!” Richie was happy to change the subject to please Eddie, and this made him smile a little.

They talked about stupid little things, like what video games they played back at home, what music they liked, and what their favorite foods were. It felt like hours had passed, but when Eddie started to feel a little hazy from the sleep medication, he looked down at his watch and realized they’d only been talking for about an hour. They decided they should probably get to bed and not try and fight the effects of the trazodone (“It’s a losing battle,” Richie told him).

As Eddie lay in bed for his first full night in the hospital, he wondered what lie in wait for him the rest of his stay here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Like I said, this will be 7 chapters, including the epilogue if all goes to plan! I hope you all read until the end! Kudos and comments are much appreciated, thanks!
> 
> -S


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry this chapter is shorter than the last, I'm trying not to bore everyone with minute details, but I think I went in the opposite direction and this may feel like it's lacking? I'm not sure, let me know what you think, thanks!
> 
> TW// Eating disorders and suicide mentioned

Eddie woke up feeling-  _ better? _ He wasn’t sure if better was the right word- he did feel more rested, but when he realized where he’d woken up, he felt a sense of dread. He couldn’t help but think of the papers he could’ve been writing, or the studying he could’ve been doing today, but instead, he was stuck in a mental facility. All because he decided to be honest with his feelings. He decided that nothing good came from being vulnerable and honest.

After his vitals were taken, Eddie decided to make his way to the day room early, leaving Richie to enjoy his last half hour of sleep before breakfast by himself in their room. He was the first one in there, so he found the remote and flipped through the channels on the TV that was encased in a wooden box. He finally settled on “Extreme Couponers”, half amazed by how these people were able to complete these shopping trips for so cheap, and the other half of him judging the way they hoard supplies instead of sharing it with those in need. It wasn’t long until people started trickling in the room, first Mike and Bill.

“Good morning, Eddie!” Mike greeted him, obviously a morning person. Bill yawned next to him, obviously  _ not  _ a morning person, and they sat at the table with Eddie as he gave them a quick, “morning.” Mike pointed at the screen and smiled, “Oh, I love this show! These people are crazy, don’t you think, Bill?” Mike nudged Bill with his elbow, who grunted and nodded. Bill got up and fixed himself a cup of coffee at the table that housed the beverages such as lemonade and tea. Eddie watched as he poured himself a cup and only added two sugars, considering getting his own cup after breakfast.

“They s-should give the stuff to ch-charity. Not just s-sit on their “wealth”,” Bill said, blowing on his coffee.  _ Great minds think alike,  _ Eddie thought to himself. Mike agreed with him, and directed the conversation towards Eddie, “So, how did you sleep Eddie?”

Eddie found Mike to be a very pleasant person, so he didn’t mind making small talk with him, “Oh fine. It’s kind of cold here though ,isn’t it? And the blankets are kind of..well,  _ shit _ .” Mike laughed. “Yeah that’s true, I’m not even sure you can call them blankets. But you know, you can change the thermostat in your room- I can show you how, if you want?” Eddie smiled at Mike’s offer and nodded. Mike smiled back, “Awesome, let me know when, and I’ll be there! Or if you need anything else, I’m here!” Eddie laughed to himself as he couldn’t help but think Mike sounded like all the nurses he encountered here, and it also made him wonder why Mike was in here; he seemed normal enough, but then again, so did Eddie on the surface.

Right after breakfast was called out, Richie and Stan trickled in the room, but like yesterday, there was no sign of Ben or Beverly. After they all stood in line and got their trays, they sat back down at the table, Richie taking his place next to Eddie. “What’re we watching today? Oh shit,“Extreme Couponers”! Those people are insane, and that’s coming from  _ me _ ,” Richie laughed before taking a mouthful of food. He continued to make up dialogue for the people on screen, giving them all exaggerated accents, and sometimes just narrating as if the people were in a wildlife documentary.

Mike was too kind, as he was genuinely laughing at all of Richie’s jokes, even when they didn’t land, while Bill and Stan were laughing at Mike for laughing at Richie. Eddie would chuckle occasional at the absurdity of some of the jokes, as many of them made little to no sense. They continued until the show ended and after finishing their breakfast, they each took a sudoku puzzle from a half-finished puzzle book and tried solving their own page. Richie would look over at Eddie’s every few minutes to “check his work”, despite their puzzles being entirely different (Eddie wasn’t sure if he knew that or not, but he wasn’t going to tell him). None of them were even close to finished by the time first group started, but they put the pages away for the time being and set the tables to the side and gathered the chairs in a circle as they did yesterday.

“Good morning, everyone! Looks like we don’t have anyone new this morning, so let’s get started with group,” Erika said as they all got situated. Ben and Beverly got there just as Erika was reiterating the rules for group, finally asking who would like to share first. Again, no one volunteered immediately, eyes wandering around the room awkwardly until Bill bit the bullet and raised his hand.

“I’m at a f-five this m-morning. I feel anxious ab-bout leaving here, but I’m also- e-excited? It’s w-weird, I th-think I’m nervous to see my brother. I still feel g-guilty about the  _ incident _ ,” Bill shared with the group. Eddie wasn’t sure what incident he was talking about, and he knew that here in DBT, they probably weren’t allowed to “get into specifics” about it. Whatever it was caused Bill a lot of stress, even now, as Eddie noticed him fidget and blink repeatedly. Erika nodded, “Well, that’s normal to be anxious about going back to something, but also excited to leave another thing. And when you get back home, it’s important to remember that the stressors are still going to be there; so you won’t just forget the trauma that occurred to you and your brother, but that’s why it’s important to go through processing therapy, so you don’t always feel guilty for your shared trauma.”

Eddie didn’t like thinking about going back home right now, because she was right; the stressors are still going to be there when he goes back, and that seemed like too much to handle. But at the same time, being  _ in here _ was also cause for stress, and he couldn’t decide which sounded worse to him at that very moment. He decided he wasn’t going to think about it anymore.

“Anyone want to go next?” Erika asked after Bill finished his check-in. Eddie was serious about wanting to try harder than yesterday, so he showed some initiative and raised his hand. “Um, hi, I feel, better? Than yesterday at least. I mean, I actually slept, so that was nice. Oh yeah, on a scale of 1-10, I’d say a, five?” Eddie said as more of a question than a statement. Erika smiled at him for a moment, like she was expecting him to say more. He didn’t, so she continued, “Okay, well I’m glad you got some rest. And a five is a little better than yesterday, what do you think is contributing to that change in mood, other than getting sleep?” Eddie hated questions like this, mostly because there wasn’t a big change in his mood, he usually just gave an arbitrary number to the therapist so they could move on to something else. He racked his brain for anything that would have improved his mood.

“Um, dinner was good?” Richie snorted and fell into a fit of laughter, probably because they both knew that the food here wasn’t any reason to brighten someone’s day. The rest of the room laughed quietly, mostly at Richie. “Okay, that’s good to hear you enjoy the food. Anything else that helped?” Eddie was getting a little frustrated, not at anyone in particular, mostly that he couldn’t think of anything particularly  _ positive  _ about yesterday. He finally came up with an answer he thought would suffice, “I had- interesting conversations yesterday. I like..talking to  _ like-minded  _ people.” Erika wrote something down on her clipboard, “Do you feel like you can talk to people at home the same way you do here?” Eddie laughed.  _ No way in hell _ , is what he wanted to say; Eddie’s mother always blamed physical illness for what was wrong with him, and never humored the idea that he could be mentally ill. So most of his life, he had to suppress the feelings of depression, anxiety, and suicide, because if he talked about them, his mother would throw a fit, saying he was just  _ sick  _ not  _ sick in the head _ . No one really understood.

“Uh no, I don’t talk about  _ this stuff _ much. Well,  _ at all _ , really. No one outside can-  _ relate _ ,” Eddie tried to think through his words carefully, thinking he might offend someone if he said the wrong thing. “Do you think you want more connections like this when you leave?” Erika asked. Eddie hadn’t really thought about that before; his conversation with Richie last night only danced around the topic of suicide, and it made him feel- a whole bunch of things. Awkward, invasive, even a little sad, but at the end of it, he felt something he couldn’t name- it was like being vulnerable with someone allowed you to have a better understanding of who they were, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that.

“I’m not sure, it’s weird, I don’t know. I don’t know,” He repeated. He knew his answers were short, but he technically was doing better than yesterday, so he decided he had enough of checking in for the day. Erika sensed this and moved on to the next person. While everyone else checked in, Eddie didn’t even pretend to listen as he messed with the hang nail on his thumb. He kept thinking about what he wanted when he got out of here, not knowing if he wanted relationships that could expose his feelings and bring forth an actual connection, or if he was content with the shallow ties he held now. 

The idea of being with someone in that way was making him uncomfortable in the same way therapy made him uncomfortable, like he knows it will benefit him in the long run, but in the moment he just wants to run away from it so he can feel safe momentarily. He knew deep down he wanted to have people he could be his honest self with, but he was unsure where to even start.  _ I guess I can start here _ .

After group, he met with his social worker and psychiatrist, both very brief interactions and basically a repeat of his check in from this morning. After seeing them, he made his way back to the day room just in time for lunch. He grabbed his tray and sat down at the table next to Richie, noticing Ben and Bev’s meal was far different than the rest of theirs.

“So, do you guys order off of some ‘secret menu’? I’d rather have that than this,” Eddie motioned to his pile of, what he believed to be some sort of chicken dish. “Sort of,” Beverly answered, and the pair’s demeanor made it clear that he probably shouldn’t have asked. After thinking it out for a minute, Eddie was able to put two-and-two together. With their frail frames, hollowed eyes, and overall dry complexion, he realized they must have some special diet for their-  _ illness _ . 

“Wow, that was awkward, why don’t we go around the table and say what we’re in here for!” Richie tried to break the awkward silence with a tasteless joke, but then again, when weren’t his jokes tasteless? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- I mean, I didn’t think-” Eddie stumbled on his words until Beverly spoke, “No it’s fine, we know you didn’t mean anything by it, right Ben?” Ben nodded with a hint of a smile on his face as he chewed on his roll. Eddie just smiled back and decided to bite his tongue from now on.

Eddie was too afraid to make much conversation the rest of the night, so he only spoke when spoken to. He probably didn’t have to feel as bad as he did, the rest of the table probably forgot about what he’d said at lunch, but Eddie couldn’t let anything go, he always seemed to sit in a puddle of guilt, unmoving- even if everyone else sat someplace dry only 3 feets away.

Eddie was startled to hear a phone ring, while the rest of the table groaned. Stan got up begrudgingly, and made his way to the nurses’ station. Eddie realized he hadn’t made any attempt to call anyone outside of here, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to. He did tell his cousin he was coming to the hospital in a text, but Eddie never bothered to follow up, and he started feeling guilty about that too. Stan came back a moment later with the phone to his ear, “Richie? I think?” He handed the phone to Richie who looked both angry and anxious.

Richie took the phone and headed for the hallway to make his call in private. Eddie wondered who could be calling him to make him look that way, leading him to wonder if  _ anyone  _ could just call and ask to talk patients here. He started imagining his mother finding out he was here, and the things she would say if she were to call him,  _ but surely not just anyone can call here, right? _ Eddie decided that soothing his anxiety over this matter was worth opening his mouth to the group again, so he asked them, “So, can anyone just call and ask to talk to you here?”

The whole group shook their heads, almost in unison. “They need your number to talk to you- it’s on your bracelet, it’s the last three digits!” Ben pointed to his hospital bracelet, specifically at the serial number under the barcode. Eddie was slightly relieved at the news, but needed more details, “But, will the nurses tell anyone that I’m here?” Eddie tried not to seem too anxious at the idea of anyone knowing he was here, but he wasn’t doing that good of a job. “No, all the calls go through the nurses first, they have to give the nurse your number before they can say if you’re here or not. They’ll push it through to those phones right outside their station if it’s the right number, then we have to pick up the phones,” Ben explained thoroughly, sensing Eddie’s anxiety.

This alleviated Eddie’s stress, and he was confident that his mother, who was about 400 miles away and also hadn’t contacted in over a year, was not going to find out where he was. He thanked Ben for the information, and Ben smiled at him, returning to his crossword puzzle.

Richie returned to the table not too long after, and something about his demeanor had changed drastically; he was silent, and Eddie swore he could see heat radiating off him from rage. He didn’t know if he should ask him what was wrong, afraid he was going to say the wrong thing like he’d done earlier. Eddie figured the rest of the group was thinking the same thing, because no one addressed the situation, instead everyone stuck to their side conversations.

It didn’t take long before Richie excused himself and said he was going to bed early. Everyone said goodnight, a look of concern on all their faces. After Richie left, they looked to Eddie, as if thinking, “He’s your roommate.” Eddie didn’t know Richie too well, in fact, Richie knew Eddie the least out of everyone here, but he  _ was  _ his roommate, and he could use that as an excuse to occupy his space and talk to him like he probably needed to do right now.

“I think I’m going to get to bed early too, I’ll see you guys in the morning. Goodnight,” Eddie waved to everyone as he left the day room and made his way down the hall. He knocked on the closed door, just to be courteous, and entered his shared room. “Hey, do you wanna be alone?” Eddie asked Richie, who was laying with the covers pulled almost all the way over him. “No, it’s your room too,” his answer was short, and although he had just met this man yesterday, this was unlike him. “Okay, I’m gonna be writing then, if you wanna talk about anything.” Eddie took out the composition notebook and began journaling, writing nothing too important so that if he was interrupted by anything Richie wanted to talk about, he could turn his full attention to him. This was a good move on him, as Richie began speaking soon after he started. 

“My agent is mad at me.” Another short statement. But one Eddie could work with,“You have an agent? For what?” Richie still hadn’t made any effort to move, “I do stand-up.” This didn’t surprise Eddie, he was more surprised that he had an  _ agent _ for his stand-up, “Oh. Why’s he mad at you?” Eddie proceeded with the second of the obvious questions. Richie inhaled sharply and his words were just the same,“Because I tried to kill myself and now I’m stuck here and I’m going to miss my show.” 

Eddie didn’t mind the bite in his reply, “Well, he shouldn’t be mad at you, shouldn’t he be worried for you?” Richie scoffed at the idea, “Yeah fucking right! That piece of shit, all he cares about is how much money I make him, he’s totally gonna drop me and then I’m back at square one! Might as well kill myself again!” Eddie knew Richie was being dramatic, or at least he thought he was, but the remark had Eddie curious as ever about who in the hell Richie was and why he was here. “If you had a big show coming up, why’d you try and kill yourself in the first place?” Eddie knew this question was probably too invasive, and if Richie told him to “shut the fuck up and stop asking questions”, he honestly wouldn’t be offended, he’d kind of be expecting it. To his surprise, Richie answered. “If you have a nice place to live, go to a great school, and have a  _ glorious  _ future ahead of you, why do you wanna kill yourself?” Richie bit back, and again, Eddie expected it, but he was right. He had great opportunities and had so much he could potentially live for, so why did he want to kill himself?

But when he thought about it a second longer, he knew that made no sense.

Just because Eddie had these opportunities, and a great place to live, and a phenomenal education, didn’t mean he struggled to see the light through it all. Even trying to articulate why he felt this way seemed near impossible to Eddie, but he knew he felt it. He knew what it felt like to want to die, even when your life was at its prime.He knew when the thoughts of living brought about crippling anxiety and put you into a never ending spiral of contemplating all of the ways you could potentially end your life. But that’s where the cycle ends.

When you’re at that point, you don’t think about what follows your own death, and all the people you leave behind. You definitely never think about the people you’ve hurt, and the damage you’ve inevitably caused them. And it’s easy not to think about this part, because if you ever think about it too long, you’ll probably talk yourself out of it. But then what else is there to do but to live in misery?

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Maybe, you’ll get out in time for your show?” Eddie tried to console Richie and divert the discussion to something more positive. He scoffed in reply. “You never know!” Eddie pushed, he didn’t know why it was such a ridiculous idea that could be out in time and Richie’s short replies were starting to annoy him. “It’s scheduled for Wednesday, I probably won’t be out ‘til Thursday.” 

“Well, if I’m out by then, I’ll go see you,” Eddie wasn’t sure why he said this, and if it would even make Richie feel better, but it was the best thing he could think of. Richie turned his head to face Eddie, “Really?” Richie looked- excited? Eddie couldn’t help but crack a smile and nod, “Yeah, but if your jokes are as lame as what you’re giving us here, I’m totally going to heckle you.” Richie laughed softly, “That’s fair, but I promise the show will be better! I know what doesn’t work because I practice on you guys!” Richie seemed to be in a better mood now.  _ It’s the little things _ . 

“Sorry about snapping at you just now, I wasn’t mad at you, just.. my agent,” Richie apologized like he was a child about to be scolded. Eddie laughed and put away his journal, giving up on writing anything else for tonight, “it’s fine, I deserved it, I was prying.” Richie was facing Eddie entirely by now, “No need to pry, I’m an open book! Ask me about my trauma, I don’t care!” Richie joked. Eddie laughed again, never knowing if he could take what Richie said seriously. “Well, we can dive into that another day, we need to take a shower before the trazodone kicks in,” Eddie got up to gather his clothes. “Oh, we’re gonna shower together?” Richie winked at Eddie while grabbing his shampoo. Eddie blushed a little,  _ why am I blushing?  _ “No! You know what I meant! Shut up, go turn on the water so we can let it run this time!” Richie laughed at Eddie as he got up to do as he said.

_ Why am I blushing? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, comments and kudos are much appreciated! I'm cranking this out faster than I thought I would so hopefully it'll be finished before the end of February! Thanks!
> 
> -S


	4. What did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth

When Eddie wakes up on Monday morning, he forgets where he is for a moment, and his internal clock tells him he has to get ready for his 9am lecture. When he sits up, he’s startled by the sound of Richie snoring in the bed next to him, and he remembers where he is in an instant. Eddie groans in the darkness as he rubs his eyes to try and get them adjusted to the room. He looks at his watch and sees it’s almost time for vitals and breakfast.

Eddie doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, so he gets up and heads to the day room to flip through the channels like he had yesterday. He was feeling sort of irritable from the way his thoughts were racing and overlapping, so he hoped no one was going to be around to overstimulate him further. Lucky for him, he was the first one in the room again, so he found the remote and turned on the most mundane weather channel and tried to turn all his attention to it. 

Eddie’s therapist had told him from the beginning he had rage issues, anyone who spent more than a few hours with him could tell you that- but a lot of their work was trying to find where the rage derived from. Over time, they found that in some instances, his rage came from being overstimulated, and other times it came from unprocessed anger that would then shift into rage ( _ the two are different,  _ Eddie had learned). No matter what the cause, being angry and full of rage just made Eddie even angrier, and feeling that way all the time made him exhausted, so he hated feeling this way, and even more so, he hated that other people didn’t feel this way all the time. His default emotion was anger, not because he liked it, but because it felt comfortable, and Eddie hated anything that made him feel uncomfortable.

Eddie had been watching the man explain the forecast with razor sharp focus for about 15 minutes before Stan walked in and took a seat at the table. He wasn’t even sure Eddie had noticed him, so he sat and watched the middle-aged man with the receding hairline on the screen as he pointed in the general paths of rainfall to come. Eddie only seemed to notice Stan when he startled to laugh quietly from the other side of the table.

“What?” Eddie asked, not understanding what was funny. Stan smiled and glanced over his shoulder, as if what he was about to say was off limits, “If I had to be a weatherman, I think I’d kill myself.” Eddie snorted, feeling bad for laughing at such a  _ terrible  _ joke.  _ The man does seem miserable _ .

“Well, what do you do then?” Eddie expected Stan to have some glamorous job by the way he spoke of this weatherman. Stan cracked a grin and muttered something Eddie couldn’t understand, so he put his hand up to his ear and asked him to repeat what he just said. “I...have a degree in accounting,” Stan said with his hands covering his smiling face.

Eddie laughed not at Stan but with him, the idea of an accountant being any more glamorous than a weatherman just sounding silly. “How is that any better than a weatherman? Do you really love numbers that much?” Eddie hoped he wasn’t coming off as malicious, it was hard for him to tell if he was sometimes, but Stan seemed to be unaffected by his tone. “Well, kind of. But I guess I don’t love them enough if I ended up here,” Eddie wasn’t sure if he should laugh or not at the last bit, but Stan seemed to find it funny enough, so he laughed with him again.

Eddie thought it was weird to be comfortable with your mental illness- to make jokes about it and discuss it with those around you was just unheard of for him. So to sit here now and laugh at a joke about suicide was- uncomfortable.

Eddie tried to change the subject after that, asking Stan about his interests, and letting him talk about his love of birds for the next 30 minutes until breakfast, when everyone else came trickling in. Their meal this morning was oatmeal, something Eddie hated the texture of so he didn’t even touch, along with the standard powdered eggs and some toast that was a little too toasty. Eddie scraped off the burnt layer and scooped on some jam with his spoon, finishing his meal quickly.

During breakfast, Richie had mentioned something about there being more groups since it was the weekday, and Eddie was dreading it, but as long as it wasn’t like their check in group, he would manage.

Check in, to his surprise, wasn’t so bad this morning, Eddie actually spoke up more about how he was feeling: “I felt sort of- angry this morning, but I feel better now that I got out of my head,” he had explained. He was being honest, but he didn’t feel exposed. “My anxiety was high this morning, like a seven, but now it’s probably a four. I think, being distracted, and having to do things here helps. I know other people have said this, but I’m nervous to go back home, but I’m also excited to leave. I’m not sure, I’m still sort of- confused?” Eddie continued. Erika didn’t say much, just letting Eddie speak.

He kind of just word-vomited during the group, and it felt weird to not be distressed about oversharing his thoughts to a room full of almost-strangers. He actually found it comforting the way he would look over and Bill would nod at what he was saying, or how Ben would smile if he made a sarcastic remark. He couldn’t help but feel like he was pushing his boundaries, but for the first time, in a healthy way.

Eddie didn’t get to finish group, as David peeked through the door and motioned for him. He excused himself quietly and followed his social worker to a vacant meeting room. “Sorry to interrupt, you seemed very enthusiastic about group today though,” David smiled at Eddie. He knew this was supposed to be a compliment, but it felt weird; kind of like, it was wrong for him to be doing well here, like if he was so open to speaking about his feelings, he didn’t really need the help. The idea was ridiculous and made almost no sense but that’s how he felt.

“Yeah, it’s kind of weird, I just felt like talking today,” Eddie didn’t know how else to explain his feelings. David nodded, but Eddie wasn’t sure if he really understood. Nevertheless, he continued “Well how do you feel today, are you having any suicidal thoughts?” Eddie shook his head, “No, not really, but I’m afraid that when I go back home, it’s going to be the same thing, and I’m just gonna want to die again. I just- I hate being there! And I like being here because- well, because it’s just not  _ there _ !” David wrote something down on his godforsaken clipboard and waited a moment before speaking, “Do you have anywhere else you could stay? Maybe not even long-term, do you have any friends you could maybe spend some time with when you don’t want to be at your house?”

Eddie had thought of this many times, and it would be no problem,  _ if  _ he had any real friends. It was sad, really, because the closest friends he had could now possibly be the people he’s met  _ here _ . It wasn’t that he was anti-social, he just found it very hard to click with people. There were probably many reasons why, but he didn’t want to think about that too much or he might get even more depressed.

“Well, not really. I’m kind of...stuck at my house all the time.” David nodded, and if Eddie didn’t know better, he would say that David looked kind of sorry for him. He spent the rest of their time together trying to give Eddie ways he could “escape” the situation of being at home, and Eddie tried his best to take them all into consideration, but he just didn’t think he understood what it felt like to be pushed out of his own house, and it just made him angry.

His meeting with the psychiatrist did little to make him feel better, but she seemed optimistic about his progress. Eddie felt like he’d made none whatsoever. But he just nodded and smiled, and when she made a joke Eddie didn’t understand, he laughed anyway. He got out of there as soon as he could.

By the time she escorted him back to the day room, there was an unfamiliar face in there. He obviously wasn’t a patient (he had shoe laces), so Eddie figured he was leading a group he’d never been to before. He took a seat in between Mike and Beverly and noticed all the different art supplies that were on the table.  _ Oh great, art therapy _ .

Eddie didn’t hate art, in fact he appreciated it greatly. But he could only imagine what  _ art therapy  _ would be like, having to express your emotions through color and lines, and he just didn’t think he was the creative type. The man he believes to be the art therapist places pieces of paper in front of all of them. Eddie remarks on his plethora of tattoos and the large plugs in his lobes; he appreciates this man’s sense of style, not exactly his type, but a good looking guy nonetheless.

“Good afternoon everyone, it’s nice to see some of you again, and also good to see some new faces. Welcome to art therapy. We have some rules, the biggest one being “NO JUDGEMENT!” Just have fun, and please be nice to my supplies and use them appropriately. If you don’t know how to use something and you’d like a demo, feel free to ask, my name’s Josh,” Eddie found the way he spoke to be therapeutic, it was almost monotonous, but soothing. It was a nice change of pace from the forced enthusiasm everyone else exuded.

“Today’s prompt is puzzle pieces; where you fit in the grand scheme of things. But hey, if you’re not feeling that, feel free to make something else,” Josh instructed. Eddie has to sit and think for a minute before he starts turning his page into a tiny jigsaw puzzle. He surrounds the middle piece with little pictures that he thought made him who he was, good and bad; his childhood home, all his medications, his running shoes. In the middle he drew a little picture of himself. He looked around the table and saw everyone pretty much had the same idea.  _ I guess great minds think alike. _

Everyone was done around the same time, so Josh paused the ambient music he was playing from his phone and brought attention to himself as he spoke, “Alright, I think we’re all about done here. We can start going around the table and sharing what we drew, let’s start with you Mike.” Mike cleared his throat and held up his paper to try and let the whole table see what he drew, “Well, I thought of myself as an edge piece, because it’s the easiest part to figure out, and after you put it together, you don’t really pay attention to it again. But next to the edge piece, we have my friends, and my family, who I see as the middle pieces, because they’re much more interesting and complex. But I think it’s important that they all come together to make the whole picture.”

Suddenly, Eddie felt stupid about his drawing, he certainly didn’t think about it that much. He also thought it was kind of sad the way Mike saw himself, because the way Eddie saw it, the edge piece was the foundation to the puzzle, and you need that support to be able to figure out the middle, and he certainly didn’t think any less of the edge piece. He wanted to talk more about it with him later.

“That’s a very interesting way of seeing it Mike, thanks for sharing,” Josh spoke before turning his attention to Eddie, “I don’t think we’ve met, thanks for coming to group, I’m Josh, and you are?” Eddie was nervous now to share, feeling self conscious about his art, “I’m Eddie. Uh, this is my- art? I didn’t think it through as much as Mike, so I just put a bunch of things that make up “me” around a picture of..me.” Eddie puts the picture down quickly, but Josh smiles and thanks him for participating.

The rest of the table shares their drawings, and Eddie feels like they all do a much better job at presenting until Richie starts to share his work. He seems anxious about showing off his picture, which is weird because it seems pretty normal. His page is set up like Eddie’s, the entirety of it just divided into jigsaw pieces, and each one has a little picture in it. He explains the microphone and how he likes performing, and the commedia masks as he’s studying theatre at university, and he was about to explain the little scribble of colors down in the corner, but he cuts himself off.

“Those are- they’re not important,” Richie folded up his drawing and put it in the pocket of his sweatpants. Josh thanked him for sharing and collected the supplies from the table, and told everyone he’d see them tomorrow. Eddie watched Richie as he got up and poured himself some water. He downed the whole cup and got another immediately. Eddie didn’t want to embarrass him and ask Richie about the whole thing in front of everyone, so he made a mental note to ask him about it privately tonight.

The rest of the day went almost too well; Richie seemed to let go of whatever was bothering him by lunch time, and he was back to cracking jokes with the rest of the table. They had another group Eddie had never gone to right after lunch, it was a “spirituality” group that Eddie wasn’t too excited for, but he read along with the meditations and tried to participate as best as he could. Dinner was even pretty good, it was Chinese food which seemed kind of odd to Eddie, but he ate it all and felt full for the first time since he got there.

The group was now sitting at the table, everyone either doing a crossword or coloring a page out of the coloring book, and Eddie noted it was almost 9pm as he looked at his watch. He asked the nurse to bring him his medication around 9:30, so he decided he’d better take a shower now so he didn’t miss her.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna head to bed now. I’ll see you guys in the morning,” Eddie waved to everyone as they all said goodnight. He headed for his room and gathered his things to take a quick shower, before remembering he had to let the water run for a long while before it actually was warm enough to bear. Eddie went ahead and turned on the faucet and left his clothes on the sink, and figured he could do some journaling while he waited.

He’d only written about a page and a half before Richie entered the room. “Hey, I thought you were gonna shower?” Richie asked, taking a seat on the edge of his own bed. Eddie motioned to the bathroom, “It has to get warm, remember?” Richie muttered an, “oh yeah,” before getting his own journal out and started writing in it.

As Eddie was recounting his day in his own writings, he remembered what had happened with Richie earlier during art therapy. “Hey, you lied,” Eddie started, not looking up from his notebook. “What?” Richie stopped writing, utterly confused at the accusation. “You said you’re an open book, but earlier in art group, you didn’t wanna say what your picture was about,” Eddie explained, this time turning his head to look at Richie. He couldn’t read his expression yet. “I meant I was an open book with you, not with everyone else, that shit’s personal,” Richie said as he tried to write, but Eddie could tell nothing coherent was being formed on the page. “Then what’s it mean?” 

Richie looked at Eddie with worry, worry for what, Eddie didn’t know. Eddie was too curious ( _ some would say nosy _ ) for his own good- but he also didn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. He got up and sat next to Richie on the side of his bed in an attempt to comfort him. Eddie wasn’t sure if it worked, but regardless, Richie took a shaky breath before speaking. “I’m gay.” Richie spoke with his eyes shut tightly, as if those words were going to make him combust. Eddie was-  _ surprised?  _ Not exactly surprised to learn that Richie was gay, but more surprised that this is what he was afraid to say aloud. Eddie wasn’t exactly  _ out  _ to everyone, but he’d definitely come to terms with the fact that he was gay. He wasn’t sure that Richie had.

“Oh. That’s- Good. I’m proud of you,” Eddie awkwardly patted Richie on the back as he opened his eyes. He looked a little confused at the response, “Is that it?” Eddie wasn’t sure what else he could’ve wanted, so he asked, “Well..I mean, is there something you expected?” Richie seemed to ponder this for a second, “I mean, not really, but gotta be honest, this is a little anticlimactic. You’re the first person I ever come out to and all I get is a weird pat on the back?” Richie said, obviously disappointed.  _ Wait, first person? _

“I’m the first person you came out to?! Dude, what the fuck, you should’ve told someone you trust! This is a big deal!” Eddie was consumed by the responsibility of holding this information. “I do trust you, that’s why I told you! This is more of the response I expected!” Richie shrugged. “Well! I’m proud of you!” They sat there in an awkward silence for a few moments before bursting out into laughter. They struggled to keep themselves upright as they leaned on one another for support. Eddie felt comfortable propped against Richie’s side; he felt strong, and it gave Eddie goosebumps when he laughed against him, and being this close to him made him realize how good he smelled.  _ That was a weird thought?  _ Eddie remarked to himself,  _ Especially about the guy who hadn’t showered for three days. _

He knew what rabbit hole his mind wanted to go down and he was trying his best to avoid that. He composed himself and scooted a few inches from Richie to put some space between them. There was another awkward silence, and for some reason, Eddie decided the best way to fill the space was to make a confession of his own. “I’m gay too. But, I’ve told other people. You’re not the first, sorry,” He apologized, as if this was going to hurt Richie’s feelings. Eddie looked to Richie to gauge his reaction, and was surprised to find that Richie looked- flustered? He hadn’t seen him this way before so it was surprising to say the least, given the circumstances. “Thanks for telling me. You know-” Before any more could be said, the nurse came in to administer their medications for the night.

While Eddie lay in a trazodone-induced haze, he wondered what made Richie get so flustered. His thoughts drifted from wondering to remembering what if felt like to be pressed against his side, breathing in his scent. He wondered if he tried hard enough if he could still smell him from his side of the room.  _ Wow that was fucking creepy. What’s wrong with me?  _ Eddie wondered to himself as he let his subconscious take over. He knew the answer to the question though, and pushing it away would do him no good now. At this point, he knew he had the  _ dumbest crushed on his roommate at the mental hospital. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little disclaimer! After coming to this point in the story, I feel like honestly the relationship (particularly Eddie's feelings for Richie by the end of this chapter) is sort of rushed? But I'm trying to stick to my outline and because the story takes places in such a limited amount of time I feel like it's okay?? (And I mean, it's just a story at the end of the day!) so sorry if the pacing for the romance seems off!! I appreciate any comments and kudos! Thank you! -S

**Author's Note:**

> You made it! Thanks for reading the first chapter, again, not sure when I'll be updating but I'm thinking this story will be around 4-5 chapters total? Maybe less, but I was only in in-patient for a week so I don't have much to work off from this stay haha. But comments and kudos are much appreciated, thanks!
> 
> -S
> 
> EDIT: Just finished the outline for the story (which I should've done first, but I'm a chaotic writer) and this story will be 7 chapters total, including the epilogue, if all goes to plan!


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